My inner-self said, “Bitch, you planned your own fucking wedding! You can DO this!”

Of course, I had plenty of help with my wedding from friends and family.

But, no matter how much assistance, the insurmountable amount of decision-making (about a huge event which is supposed to be heartfelt, touching, entertaining, and a kick-butt party — oh, and don’t forget that you are requiring two families to merge and you’re forcing every single person from every single circle of your life to exist in the same room together AND you’re supposed to look like a goddamn movie star the entire time) is all up to the bride-to-be.

It’s enough to send anyone into a tailspin.

Also, in my case, I was trying like mad to cut corners on cost so a lot of it was DIY.

DIY sounds real cute and delightful but don’t be fooled. There’s nothing cute about a stressed-out-skeletor-lookin’ bride-to-be having a melt-down over homemade bouquets, pom poms, hair fascinators, and boutineers in her apartment — an apartment she hasn’t cleaned in months.

Anyway, I’ll have to remember this the next time the walls start closing in on me.

3 thoughts on “The Wedding Planner”

Even way back when we got married, I remember reading an article about the relationship between planning one’s own wedding and kickass professional skills. What I remember is that, like a typical work project, it winds up being about at least twice the trouble and effort you projected it would be.